Chapter Ten

She learned fast.

Bide was amazed at how quickly Ache had improved after just a few lessons. He watched her sparring session with great interest; her smooth, fluid motions, and how her golden hair flowed as she ducked and spun. She was fighting a lanky Human initiate of average talent. His orange lightsaber seemed to move in slow motion, at least to Bide, as it blocked an aggressive set of attacks from Ache intended to achieve sun djem—the term the Jedi used for disarming one's opponent.

But she never got it. The lanky Initiate blocked the final attack of her set, twisted his wrists and, with only a slight slip, pivoted around Ache and kicked her feet from under her. Her training lightsaber dropped from her grip, and she found the humming orange blade of her opponent inches from her face.

"The match goes to Initiate Gher," announced the presiding Master, a blue-skinned Twi'lek named Kalo Sindesh. While Bide had utter distaste for all the Jedi, he disliked this Master the least. He was knowledgeable enough about lightsaber combat for Bide to pay attention at least half the time. Of course, he was, from what Bide could tell, far below Ja'neel's level, but he had to concede that he would not be able to handle the bulky Twi'lek himself.

"The next match will be between Initiates Shriek and Leem." Master Sindesh's eyes were fixed on Bide and he was smirking. Bide was well aware that Master Sindesh considered him the most "promising" student in the class, and Leem to be his closest match. Of course, what the Twi'lek did not know was that Bide was far more skilled than anyone in the Temple knew. In time, they would all know—but for now, he had to play his part. He uncrossed his legs and rose from the uncomfortably hard ground, stepped over a few classmates, and made his way into the center of the room. He smiled at Ache as she walked back to her seat; she smiled back and flashed him a thumbs-up.

The training room was unfurnished, with the exception of a half-dozen mats on the upper level—a glass-encased balcony which could be accessed only through the Council chambers—and painted a brilliant white. The flawless white of the walls and ceiling was an odd juxtaposition to the center of the room, which was slightly elevated and covered with a dark blue mat—the reason for this eyesore was something Bide had yet to discern.

Bide was joined on the mat by his opponent, the silver-skinned Teevan named Trem Leem. He was an arrogant Jedi, confident in his abilities as a swordsman and wielder of the Force, and his high academic standing among his fellow Initiates bolstered this confidence. He was always surrounding by an air of condescending superiority, and his face was never without an annoying smirk that betrayed just how superior he felt he was. Bide intended to inspire Trem to undergo a change of heart.

Master Sindesh nodded at both of the Initiates. "The match will continue until one of you loses your weapon. Are you ready?" Bide and Trem both nodded their heads slowly, unclipping their hilts from their belts. "Begin!"

Trem, confident smirk ever-present on his face, leapt towards Bide, blue lightsaber shimmering over his head. His silver eyes glistened with confidence—confidence that he was the best; that he would defeat Bide. But his eyes lost that glisten when Bide simply stood still, lightsaber still lifeless in his left hand. Confused, the Teevan cut his jump short and rolled backward when his feet hit the ground.

"What're you doing? Turn your lightsaber on!" he shouted angrily.

Bide smiled and shrugged. "That isn't a requirement for this exercise. We were instructed to fight until one of us lost our weapon." He held his hilt up and waved it in the air. "I still have mine. You're welcome to try and take it."

Trem looked helplessly over to Master Sindesh, who simply shrugged and continued to observe the pair. Trem grumbled in annoyance and opted for a different tactic. He extended his hand towards Bide and, visibly gathering the Force, launched a Force push at him.

Bide could not help but laugh. He anchored his feet to the ground with the Force and allowed the harmless attack to buffet him. His hair was visibly ruffled, but he was otherwise unharmed. A few of the observing students laughed. Master Sindesh perked a brow in curiosity.

"Come on!" urged Trem. "Fight back! Are you scared to fight me?"

"Terrified. I would concede the match right now, but I'm frozen with fear. Can't drop my hilt."

Trem, livid at this point, lost all semblance of patience and ran towards Bide, lightsaber still humming. He swung with a strong two-handed grip for Bide's left hand, in which he held his hilt, eager to end the match. Bide took one step forward and, in one fluid motion, clipped his lightsaber to his belt and sent a powerful front-kick into Trem's approaching hands. A sickening pop was heard, and Trem's hilt clattered lifelessly onto the blue mat.

"The match goes to Initiate Shriek," announced Master Sindesh. He stepped onto the mat and approach Trem, who was now on his knees, holding his dislocated wrist. "Trem, go to the infirmary and have Master Kiehl look at your wrist." Trem nodded and, after fixing Bide with a look of disgust, walked off the mat and out of the room.

"What we have just seen, class," continued Master Sindesh, "is a very accurate impersonation of dun moch. Does anyone here know what that is?"

As Ache's hand shot into the air, Bide grinned. Of course she knew what it was. Master Sindesh nodded at Ache, who stood up and spoke. "Dun moch is a battle tactic employed by Force Users who use the Dark Side. It usually consists of verbal abuse of one's opponent in an attempt to cause him or her to fight sloppily, on pure emotion." She remained standing, as if contemplating whether her answer was sufficient. Master Sindesh nodded and motioned for her to take her seat again.

"Very good, Ache. You're quite right." He turned to Bide and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. "Was this an intentional impersonation of such a tactic, Bide?"

Bide reached up and absent-mindedly combed his hair with his fingers. "Well, I suppose it was. I stumbled upon dun moch in my studies, and was curious to see how combating a lightsaber with words would turn out. I think it worked pretty well."

"It worked, yes—but was it right? By employing dun moch, you strive to control your opponent, mislead him with your words. You cause him to turn to relying on pure emotion when fighting. There is no emotion; there is peace, Bide. Pushing anyone, even your opponent in the direction of the Dark Side is a malicious effort. You should not wish anyone to be lured onto the path of evil."

Evil.

There it was again. The Jedi, with all of their abilities of foresight, with their practically limitless resources, were blind. Conceited. Bide longed to see the day when the Jedi were struck with the realization that theirs was not the best path; not the right path. For all their power, they were weak. For all their wisdom, they were ignorance. For all their stoicism, they were ridden with emotions.

But among them Bide saw potential, and it had shimmering golden hair and deep blue eyes. He looked at her when he spoke, and suddenly had the urge to be alone with her. "Okay, Master Sindesh," he said plainly, and stepped down from the mat. The Twi'lek Master frowned and seemed to want to say more, but was at a loss for words. What more was there to say?

Bide watched the remaining matches in silence, waiting for the feeling of freedom he felt when Master Sindesh announced the end of class. And, when he did, Bide immediately sought out Ache among the crowd of students hurrying out of the room.

"You fought really well today," he said once he found her. "Maybe a bit too… structured in your attack patterns, but you've improved a lot in the past few days."

Ache smiled, her full pink lips spreading to reveal perfect white teeth. "But not enough to win a match."

"Just give it some time. It's not something you learn overnight."

"You seemed to catch on pretty quickly," she replied. "Not that you even need a lightsaber to win anymore."

Bide laughed. "Well, Jedi are supposed to advocate non-violence, right? If you can get your opponent to more or less defeat himself without having to use a lightsaber, aren't you solving a situation through non-violent means?"

"I…" Ache furrowed her brow in thought. "I guess that makes sense. But Master Sindesh said that it could turn someone towards the Dark Side. That would be wrong."

"That's a very generalized response. Just look at Trem—did he turn to the Dark Side? Did his eyes turn yellow, and bolts of lightning shoot from his fingertips?"

When Ache did not response, instead fixing him with a look of concern, Bide sighed and pointed back to the mat. "Never mind dun moch. Let's work on a few lightsaber drills, shall we?"

She stared at him curiously for a few moments longer, then smiled gently and nodded.

You'll see the truth in my words soon enough, thought Bide as he stepped back onto the blue mat of the training room. You'll see that there is more to the Force than right and wrong, dark and light. You'll see power.

And through power, you gain victory. Through victory, Ache, your chains will be broken. I will set you free.